


Kingdom Of Hearts

by Supernova95



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-11
Updated: 2013-07-19
Packaged: 2017-12-19 05:14:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/879859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Supernova95/pseuds/Supernova95
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Kingdom of Gotham and the Shadow Lands have been at war for a decade, now the ShadowKing has kidnapped the third Prince of Gotham, heir to the throne and a lot of people are not very happy about that…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *Zips are ‘Zipbirds’ basically really really fast carrier pigeons :) and ‘Orbs’ are magical CCTV cameras

"Father! Father!" the noise echoed down the castle’s stone corridors bouncing off walls and ceilings, being absorbed by old wooden doors until it finally reached the throne room where the King and his two eldest princes were busy discussing the Kingdom’s defences against the Gauls. His youngest son, half Gaul yet completely Wayne, ran through the oak doors red faced and breathless. “Father, Timothy is gone"

The room went deadly quiet, time almost freezing, until the King spoke.

"Gone, what do you mean… Gone?" the anger in his voice obviously bubbling just below the surface. It had been a… trying few weeks. There had been a sickness that quickly spread throughout the Kingdom of Gotham, even breaching the palace, taking the heir apparent; Prince Timothy, ill, and causing him to be bed ridden for the past few weeks. He had placed the 6th legion of the castle guards to look over him, making sure none but the royal family or Alfred could go in and see him.

It seemed, however, that even a whole legion of guards could not defend his son from their enemies.  

"Someone took him. The guards stationed outside his room are dead, his room is a mess. He struggled even in he weakened state, but it wasn’t enough. He is gone." he paused; the room knew what was coming next “It looked to be Grandfather". The King nodded solemnly,

"Ra’s would do this, he has always taken a strange liking to Timothy" he turned to the guards in the room with a glare etched on his face “Tell no one of this, finding out the heir apparent has been kidnapped by Gotham’s mortal enemies will cause a panic that even we won’t be able to control, bury you’re dead and bring me Gordon. " the guards nodded, quickly exciting the room to follow their King’s orders.

The room remained in silence for a few minutes, worried glances being exchanged, before the King looked at his sons.

"You know what you have to do" they each nodded. His eldest; Richard, clapped his fist to his heart and strode out of the room, and towards the stables. He was Commander in Chief of Gotham’s army, charismatic, likeable, a great public speaker… he could have been King one day, if he had wished it, but he had not. Instead content with his current job. The Commander in Chief could not be King lest he dies in battle, there was also the political conflict of interest… but no one really cared about that. He would contact their friends in other Kingdoms, to ask for their help in searching for Timothy.

His second; Jason, was the commander of the Outlaws… Gotham’s elite black ops strike team. They could do what the army could not; go where no one else could, do what must be done to finish the mission… and come back alive. Their actions held no consequence in Gotham, however extreme some of them may be, but they were all prepared to face the consequences if caught in another, enemy, Kingdom. That consequence would be death.

The Outlaws had so far lost no one, his elite squad was legendary; even in their covertness, and the world knew you don’t mess with the Outlaws. They had not yet been on a mission to the Shadow Lands, but as Jason left the room using the family’s private door behind the throne, he guessed Ra’s would know it too.

Jason had made it clear from the beginning that he *never* wanted to be King, too much responsibility, and it’s not that he couldn’t handle it, because everyone knew he could, but he didn’t like it. The many public appearances, speeches, big decisions, the whole world resting publically on his shoulders as people looked on and judged. That wasn’t him. He was the true solider, the saving the world subtly in the background kind of guy, and he had accepted that; because Jason was his son and heaven forbid he would do  _anything_  for his sons.

That left the elephant in the room: Damian. His youngest, half Wayne, half Gaul, born of Talia al Gaul; Ra’s most beloved daughter, and only defector. The king had met his future wife at a peace conference and there they fell in love. Deeply in love. The term whirlwind romance didn’t compare to the speed and ferocity of their blossoming adoration for one another, nor did anything match the gracious splendour of their wedding.

It was beautiful, full of gold and white and diamonds, flowers of all sizes and colours. Prestigious guests from the League of Kingdoms; his friends.

And Talia… he dress, her beauty… her glorious life and presence. The intricate rings a sign of how much he loved her. Her absolute rejection of her father, her family, her life a sign of how much she loved him. A sign that did not come without consequence. At Damian’s christening his grandfather tried (and failed) to assassinate him, killing instead his daughter; the King’s beloved wife, sparking a war that carried on till this day.

With Ra’s latest attack being a magically started plague, a plague that made its way to Gotham city; the heart of the Kingdom, killing countless millions on the way. A plague that had almost taken his son’s life… his son that his youngest was supposed to be looking after; hence the elephant in the room.

"Father I-"

"Save it Damian, I don’t want to hear it. You will, however, apologise and explain yourself to Timothy when he gets home" his son looked at him with a little spite and disgust, it was no secret to him that they didn’t get along, well it was until Timothy brought it to his attention one night when he came to his chambers and simply asked why Damian hated him.

His automatic response was that- “Of course Damian doesn’t hate you, he’s your brother." But he was soon proven wrong when he observed his youngest more closely. Damian did hate Timothy. It was painfully obvious; in his snide remarks, his over the top jabs, his close calls when their family was training in the caves below the castle. It was all there and he really didn’t know how he didn’t see it sooner.

Yet he still trusted his youngest explicitly when it came to Timothy. Something he now was regretting.

So he merely stared at him, not breaking eye contact, wearing his youngest down until he broke under the pressure of his gaze. 

"Of-of course father, I will apologise if that is your wish." This bemused him further, what would it not be his wish, it was, at present, Damian’s turn to watch over Timothy; as he was still too ill to look after himself, and he had failed in that duty, and his son was now in the hands of their most deadly enemy, really he wished for more than an apology; but an apology was all he was likely to get.

There was a loud knock on the throne room doors and the King turned from his son to motion the guards, still in the room, to open them. General Gordon swiftly approached his throne; dropping to one knew when he got there, bowing his head, clapping his fist to his heart and muttering “My King” before standing to attention.

General James ‘Jim’ Gordon was the head of the castle guards and the city’s police force; he had been since before Bruce was born. In fact one of his earliest memories was of the General sweeping him away from the scene of his parents’ assassinations to a waiting Alfred back in the Royal Family’s private chambers in the centre of the castle. Like Alfred had become like a father to him, the General had become something of an uncle and mentor figure, gently guiding him through the process of becoming the King he was today.

“My Lord, I have sent zips to all the outland posts still in Gotham advising them to send out more patrols to the know passing points out of the kingdom, and to be on the lookout for any activity from the Shadows, but not mentioning anything specific, just in case the zips are intercepted by undesirables. I also have my top people working on finding out how the shadows got into the castle in the first place, especially without sounding any alarms, and I have also sent out two legions of my best trackers… we will get him back my lord” he nodded his head once more in his own, uncustomary, sign of respect for his ruler.

“Thank-you General; Prince Richard is currently sending messages to the other Kingdoms in The League, notifying them of our situation, and asking them for an emergency meeting to discuss matters. Prince Jason is currently planning a direct attack on Ra’s compound with his Outlaws and a small strike team, we are about to ride to the watchtower, to make use if the intel and orbs there. I trust I can leave the castle in your safe hands while we are gone? Alfred will be happy to help you with anything you need, if that is all General, my son and I will take out leave we have a missing Prince to find.”

“Of course my King, the castle is safe with my guards and I, and if not… Alfred is probably all this place needs to logistically keep running anyway. It will be in one piece when you return. Happy hunting my Lord, Prince Damian.” He bowed once more and strode out of the room giving some orders to the guards on his way. The castle will be fine… his son on the other hand…

“Come Damian we must get downstairs and inform Alfred of what has happened… and hope the cave’s orbs have something to tell us”


	2. The ShadowKing

The bed was so soft and warm that Tim could almost pretend he was back at home, in their palace back in Gotham. Apart from the fact that he was not in Gotham. He didn’t know exactly where he was, but, even in his fevered state, he could tell it wasn’t Gotham.

It was too bright through the curtains, light was pouring in through the cracks in a way that it didn’t at home, not even at the height of summer. Outside the window he could hear calling voices, shouts of anger, shouts of joy, children screaming and laughing, he could hear a river? Lake? and the splashes of boats in it. The air as thick with the scent of spices and exotic flowers.

But more than that; there were no birds. No robins tweeting on his windowsill, no crows outside, no gulls cawing at them from over the harbour.

No this was definitely not Gotham.

Gotham was dark and in places dirty. Gotham was freezing and snowy in the winter and hot and muggy in summer. Gotham was full of many different peoples from all over, it was a vibrant multicultural capital city. It may have a high crime rate and some slums left over from the dark times, but they were getting there.

Gotham was where his family was, Gotham was Bruce and Dick and Jason and Alfred… And Damian. Gotham was his life now.

Gotham was home.

This was not home.

Timothy cracked his eyes open slightly, doing it slowly to avoid his head hurting further. The walls of us room were made of sandstone, a deep red colour that radiated throughout the room, there was a small window looking out on bright blue cloudless skies. He had a bedside table next to him with a single lamp and pot of flowers.

A small breeze swept though the room making him shiver. It wasn’t coming from the window, noir the plain oak door; but from the man standing at the foot of his bed.

He was dressed in a black cloak, which he shed the moment he noticed Timothy was awake, to reveal a forest green function with golden strips adorned with strange symbols for seams. He was the visual definition of power and riches, and the moment Timothy saw him he knew where he was; the ShadowLands.

He was the prisoner of the ShadowKing.

-

For a man with a such a gruesome and grotesque reputation, he was surprisingly polite. He held to Gotham like formalities with a middle eastern twist.

He held the formally of bowing to each other when they met, even though in his fevered state all Timothy could manage was a reverent nod. The exchange of pleasantries was nice enough, even if the ShadowKing did look at him weird.

"Timothy, third son in the house of Wayne, heir to the throne of Gotham," the man outstretched his hand in another attempt to make him more comfortable “pleased to met your acquaintance, I am Ra’s al Gaul, King of the Shadow Lands."

They had a routine, Timothy would sleep most of the day away but would wake up for afternoon spiced tea with The ShadowKing, who would then proceed to give him medicine (for an illness he caused) and lecture him on the ways of the Shadow Lands, which was bright and hot for a land of shadows.

His mind was fuzzy but he could tell that it was becoming all too comfortable. Timothy didn’t like it, he didn’t like it at all. He didn’t like that he was starting to enjoy his time with the ShadowKing, he didn’t like that he was starting too look forward to afternoon tea.

But now that he was almost cured of the magical plague, he could see and think far more clearly and thinking more clearly and was starting to get so very homesick that his heart hurt. He missed his family; he missed his father; strong in public, when he needed to be, but so gentle and kind at home, he missed the bedtime stories he would tell of his many adventures with the League of Kingdoms, Timothy especially liked his escapades with Kal; King of Krypton as Kon, Kal’s son, was his best friend and they spent many summers with each other growing up.

He missed Richard and Jason with their big brother hugs and advice and little sparring matches that usually ended with them in fits of laughter in a heap on the floor, he missed their snowball fights in winter and their picnics in summer.

He missed Alfred and their intelligent conversations and chess matches, he missed having someone to talk to about what book he had just finished reading and he missed his lessons about maths and science and other important and less important things in life.

He even missed Damian with his annoying yet mildly playful jabs, though Timothy mostly missed him because he was the only one he could surly beat in a sparring match.

Maybe, seeing as the King had been so nice to him so far he may take him home.

He was wrong.

"Home? Timothy, this is your home now. Your father took my daughter, my heir, from me, so I’m returning the favour" his smile was a cruel twist on gladness, it was greedy and egotistical and suddenly he saw where the Shadow Lands got their name.

Timothy was suddenly very frightful, Talia was dead, so did that mean that the ShadowKing was going to kill him too? Retribution for the death of his daughter that he himself caused?

"If you are going to kill me please get it over with, your company is getting quite tiresome" be strong in the face of danger, that’s what his father had always told him… Right? Although that probably didn’t mean egging someone on to kill him, but he’d rather die sooner that have a long drawn out and painful death.

"Kill you? Why on Earth should I want to kill you?"

"You said you were returning my father’s favour, ergo: you are going to kill me" Ra’s grin broadened (if that was even possible) as he leaned over to stroke Timothy’s sweat drenched hair,

"Oh no dear boy, I’m not going to kill you. Your father took my daughter from me, he corrupted her, he stole her and had that idiot child with her, how it can be related to me I do not know… But you, you intrigue me. You are smart, strong, and wise. You can fight if needed to but prefer more subtle, even if they are more time consuming, methods. You are all anyone could want in a leader.

"So I shall have my revenge on your father, but it shall be by stealing you, corrupting you, keeping you;

"You are going to be my heir."


End file.
